Compuwhore

S.M.’s computer, it has been discovered, is the office slut. She’s been passed around to various people more times than a best-selling library book. She has more profiles stored on her than any other computer in the office, and apparently the hard life has caused her to become bitter and unresponsive. Yesterday, she even refused to respond to mouse clicks, and S.M. was forced to discontinue working early. It is a sad tale of our society, but it does happen. We can’t all have monogamous computers.

Found...Dead at Work

I was reading this article about this guy that died at his desk at work, and nobody noticed there was anything wrong for five days. Apparently, the guy was always the first one in, the last one to leave, and it wasn’t unusual for him to work for days on end without talking to anyone.

I’m a little appalled by this. So, basically this guy got paid for doing nothing for five days! If it was my company, I’m sure my widow could expect a nice payroll deduction on my last paycheck. “Dead at desk…5.0 units @ 168.00…-$840.”

It’s not all bad, though, at least I could get a nice tax credit on my taxes. When I did my taxes this year, the software asked me if I had died before December 31. I was a little unsure how to answer that. I skipped the question until I saw if I was going to get money back or owe the government. I figured maybe I wouldn’t have to pay if I was dead. I came to find out later that death is not an excuse for not paying your taxes. Apparently, tax collectors can even find you in the afterlife!

Squatty Potty

S.M. came across this article yesterday about squatting toilets, or the “squatty potty,” which are apparently common in parts of Asia and the Middle East. This is essentially just a hole in the ground that you squat over to do your business. There is no flushing mechanism. If you’re lucky, you’ll find a bucket of water sitting next to the hole to help clean up after yourself! (Does this remind anyone else of a Port-o-Potty…minus the bucket of water, of course?)

The article went on to describe the proper way to use the toilets; proper squatting technique, how to clean yourself only with your left hand (and how not to eat with that hand later), how to properly dispose of your toilet paper, etc.

I realize that here at work we don’t have squatting toilets, but I figured the same technique could be applied to a normal toilet. It would just take achieving the proper balance while standing up there on the toilet seat. I discovered that is not as easy as you might think. For one thing, you are limited in the width you can spread your feet apart, since the toilet seat is only “so” wide. And for another, it is doubly hard to squat, keep your balance, and still have your hands free to play Midnight Pool on your cell phone.

I don’t think the “squatty potty” will catch on here anytime soon.

A Blessing and a Curse

You know, it really is a curse to be as good looking as I am. Well, of course you don’t know! How could you? There’s nobody as devilishly handsome as I am. It’s a blessing and a curse, though. On one hand women faint at the mere sight of me, and on the other I could never commit a crime, because I’m so easily recognizable.

My poor wife, bless her soul, doesn’t trust me at all. She’s always suspicious of where I’m going and who I’m going with. She can’t help it. I’d never cheat on her, but how could she trust this face when it melted her heart easily enough?

*Sigh* Yes, a blessing and a curse.

I would hide myself from life, to keep my beauty from everyone. But I must go on. It wouldn’t be fair to deny so many deserving people the opportunity to catch even a glimpse of me.

Oh the burden I must carry!

Errorless E-mail

Today has been a pretty good day. I wrote an entire client e-mail without the spell checker finding a single error. I was so stunned when it went right through. I had my mouse poised to click the usual ‘Skip’ or ‘Replace’ buttons. I was thrilled and strangely disappointed at the same time.

I went on to write two more e-mails that also went through without a single error. I started to get cocky. Then I sent an e-mail that contained a simple, three-word answer and got caught misspelling two of the three words. The honeymoon was over. I’m a loser again.

Corporate Quit Smoking Plan

My company decided that employees were taking too many smoke breaks, which was cutting into their productivity. They decided to take our end-of-the-year bonuses and start a new “Kick the Habit” program. Each smoker was to be given a daily dose of Nicorette to help them start curbing the habit.

A week before the program was supposed to go into effect, the financial numbers for the actual cost of the program came out. My company decided that it would cost too much to buy Nicorette for all of the smokers, so they decided to substitute packs of gum instead. Each smoker was to be given a pack of gum weekly.

The first day of the program the managers came around and handed each smoker a single stick of Extra gum. When asked what happened to the entire pack of gum, the managers responded that this gum would last an extra, extra long time and the smokers would just have to make it last the entire week.

Shortly after, we received an inter-office memo stating that upper management had found a way to cut costs and that each of the executive officers would be receiving a raise in pay. Our end-of-the-year bonuses were never reinstated.

That was five years ago.

My Baseball Cards

BANG!

“I’ve been shot,” I say, clutching my hand to my chest. I gasp and crumple to the floor. The pain is unbearable. I can hardly catch my breath as my wife sits down next to me and cradles my head in her arms.

“Just be still. Don’t try to talk too much,” she says comfortingly, gently moving a stray hair out of my eyes.

“But…gasp…but there’s something…gasp…I need to tell you. I…gasp…I want you to have…gasp, cough, cough…I want you to have my baseball cards.”

“Your baseball cards?” she asks incredulously.

“Yes. They’re my most…gasp…valuable possession. Cough, cough…you can sell them…gasp…sell them and use the money…gasp…to live…cough, cough. I don’t have much…gasp…but what I have…gasp…is cardboard,” I say sincerely.

“And how much are they worth?” she asks me suspiciously.

“I’m sure…gasp…they’ve gone up in value…cough, cough…but the last time I checked, they…gasp…were worth around $12.00.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” she exclaims, rolling me off her lap. My head hits the floor with a thunk.

I roll over to face her with some effort. I plead with her. “But, Baby, it’s…gasp…it’s not my fault that Jose Canseco ended up sucking…cough, cough…and…gasp…nobody’s heard of Don Mattingly…gasp…and Barry Bonds thought it would be a good idea…cough, cough…to do steroids. It seemed like a good idea…gasp…at the time. I spent hundreds of dollars on them…gasp…and now they’re worth about five cents apiece.”

“You’re pathetic!” she screams at me and stomps out of the room. The last image I have in this world is a sideways view of the floor and her retreating shoes.

I think to myself. “Damn you, Jose Canseco! Damn you!”

Bankruptcy Party

The show I was listening to this morning on the radio was discussing the fact that less than a week after the federal government gave AIG $85 million to bail the company out of its financial difficulties, the company sent its executives on a retreat to a posh California resort. The total tab for the retreat cost the company approximately $440,000.

The DJ on the radio show asked callers what they would do with $440,000. Most of the callers talked about paying off debt or buying a new car or house. One guy called in and asked if the DJ thought he could buy the Kansas City Chiefs for that amount. The DJ said that the guy probably could, but why would he want to, even for that amount.

I think that caller is just stupid. I mean, it’s $440,000! He could probably negotiate and get the Kansas City Chiefs and the St. Louis Rams for that price. Idiot!

Wal-Mart Greeter

I applied at Wal-Mart to be a door greeter. I wanted to be able to smile at people and welcome them to the store. Seemed like a great job. Everything seemed just fine until Wal-Mart turned me down. They said I was overqualified for the position. Imagine that, being overqualified to say “Hi” to people.